


Saudade

by sophh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 10:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21492748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophh/pseuds/sophh
Summary: Saudade: a feeling of longing, melancholy, or nostalgia.When Angelina takes her daughter to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes nearly ten years after the Battle of Hogwarts, she is forced to confront the past with a little help from George.
Kudos: 4





	Saudade

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Hogwarts Challenges & Assignments on ff.net. The prompt was to write about something highly emotional.
> 
> Many, many thanks to Gen (owlwayssandforever) for the wonderful suggestions to make this better.
> 
> Warning for the discussion of a canon character death. Reading may result in tears being shed (or maybe that's just me).

(saudade: a feeling of longing, melancholy, or nostalgia)

_Saturday, 1 September 2007_

Angelina Johnson wasn't quite sure when Ella had gotten away from her. All she knew was that it could take ages to find her six-year-old daughter in the colorful, bustling joke shop known as Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

It was weird to be back in the shop, she realized. Weird that Fred wouldn't jump out at her, hoping to scare her or make her laugh, yes, but weirder still that she had come back with a daughter that wasn't even his. Angelina had always thought they would grow old and have children together. Then the Battle of Hogwarts had thrown away all of their plans in one ugly explosion.

She had drifted for a few years, aimless and angry, until she met the man who would become Ella's father. She hadn't loved him - how could she, when her heart still belonged to a dead man? But she used him to pierce the numbness that had set in. What she had with him was a sham, a mimicry of the life she had envisioned for herself and Fred. By the time she found out she was pregnant with Ella, he was gone.

As Angelina struggled through the crowds clustered around the various displays, she kept her eyes down, looking for a small girl with sleek black hair and caramel skin. Twice she thought she spotted her, but the first child turned out to be a little boy who had come shopping with his brothers, and the second had disappeared by the time she made it over to the Skiving Snackbox shelf where she had seen them.

She sighed and wound her way towards the cash register, where a blonde witch clad in magenta robes stood. Angelina recalled from previous visits that her name was Verity.

"Hi," Angelina said. "I don't suppose you've got some sort of announcement system here these days? I've lost my daughter somewhere in this madhouse and I haven't a hope of finding her by myself."

The witch stared at her. "Miss Johnson?"

Angelina blinked. "You know who I am?"

"Of course," Verity whispered. "Mr. Weasley used to talk about you all the time."

Angelina knew that the "Mr. Weasley" in question must be Fred, and she swallowed, a lump forming in her throat as she did so. She turned away to regain her composure. When she looked back, Verity was wringing her hands together, clearly distraught at having upset her.

"It's okay," Angelina said softly. "Being back here...I don't know what I expected, honestly. My daughter..." She trailed off, remembering that she needed to find Ella.

Verity seemed to remember, too, for she reached behind the counter and handed her a megaphone.

"It's a bit over the top, but it gets the job done," she explained. "Once it knows who you're looking for, it'll do the rest."

Puzzled, Angelina held the megaphone up to her lips and shouted, "Ella? Ella Johnson?" What ended up being blasted across the whole store, however, was, "Attention, shoppers! Angelina Johnson" — how did it know her name? — "has lost her only daughter, Ella Johnson. Ella is 117.4 centimetres tall with dark hair, light brown skin, and blue eyes. If you see her, please grab her and direct her to the cash register!"

Angelina groaned. She should have known the megaphone would turn out to be an embarrassing item. This was a joke shop, after all. At least it had worked, though. A minute later, Ella skipped over to her mother, chattering away about all of the cool things she had found.

"Well, I never," came a familiar voice from behind her. She whirled around and found herself face-to-face with George Weasley. "Angelina Johnson. It's good to see you," he said, looking quite amused.

"I—that wasn't...um, hi, George," Angelina stammered. She stared at him, and unconsciously tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear. He looked so much like Fred it made her heart ache a little. She quickly reached out and gave him an obligatory hug, thankful that he didn't smell the way Fred had, although she supposed that after so many years, Fred might not have had the same musk either.

"Lost something, did you?" George teased, jostling her from her thoughts. "Or...someone?" Angelina's face flushed.

"You heard that?"

He nodded. "Hard not to, even upstairs. And this must be Ella herself!" He crouched down and shook the little girl's hand solemnly, making her giggle.

"Hi," she said happily. He grinned at her.

"I'm George. Your mum tell you about me, Ella?"

Ella thought for a moment, then shook her head.

"Really? We were practically best mates at Hogwarts and she never mentioned—"

"George," Angelina interrupted. She shook her head at him, willing him to keep quiet. There was a reason she hadn't told her daughter about him. If she had brought up George, she would have had to bring up Fred, too, and she didn't want to unleash that powder keg of emotions within herself.

"Right," George said hastily. "That was a long time ago."

There was an awkward pause.

"Well, it was lovely to see you, George." Angelina reached for her daughter's hand. "Let's go, El."

George looked between mother and daughter. He seemed to be struggling with something. Finally, he burst out, "Angie, wait. I thought maybe we could, you know, catch up." He ran a hand through his hair, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

"We should be getting back-"

"Oh, of course, you must have someone waiting for you at home—"

"Ah, no, it's just us girls," Angelina said, hoping she sounded nonchalant. At her side, Ella nodded, defiant.

"I shouldn't have assumed. I guess I just thought...well, never mind." George's face was a shade of red that rivaled his hair color.

"It's okay. We can- we can stay a bit longer."

George gestured towards the staircase leading to the private flat above the shop. "After you, Miss Johnson."

"Oh," Angelina said, flustered. "I didn't realize you meant—Ella, love, why don't you go and play down here? Mummy knows how to find you again." The little girl grinned and ran off, vanishing into the throngs once more.

"You might regret that," George said as they climbed the stairs. "Leave her down there long enough and she'll never want to leave."

"I suppose you'd know all about that," Angelina laughed.

"Well, yeah. You were the same way, once, too," he said soberly, and Angelina nearly lost her footing. He was right, of course, but she had always stayed for the charming young man with the flaming hair and a knack for jokes rather than for the gadgets and gizmos.

George reached the top of the stairs first and held the door open for her. Angelina was glad to see that his face was no longer red.

"I did wonder, you know," he said as he led her into the small kitchen, "why your daughter has your surname."

"Huh? Oh, that bloody megaphone," Angelina grumbled, taking a seat at the cluttered kitchen table.

"Yeah. I guess I'm not too surprised, though," he continued.

"Not too surprised...?"

"That you didn't...settle down with anyone. After my brother." Angelina was glad he hadn't used Fred's name. She wasn't sure she could handle hearing it out loud after keeping it locked up in her head for so long.

In this more intimate setting, she could see George properly. He looked tired; his face was more lined than she remembered and his eyes didn't seem to sparkle the way they used to. She understood why. This was a George Weasley who had been forced to become an adult without his twin. She understood, because she had been left with a similar Fred-shaped hole in her heart.

"I...I tried to, you know," she confessed. "But it wasn't the same as with—with him." She couldn't bring herself to say his name either. She looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears, then let out a small sob and put her head in her hands. "I'm sorry. It's just... it's so hard, being back here. Pieces of him are e—everywhere."

She heard, rather than saw, George pull his chair closer.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," he said quietly. After a moment, he reached out and put his arm around her. "And I don't blame you for not coming back sooner. My first day back after he—after it happened, I thought about shutting this place down. I mean, he had poured so much of himself into it, and every time I came across one of his creations, it only served to remind me how much more he could have done. I...closed up early that day, and the day after that, but then I remembered that this was his dream, our dream, and I couldn't just throw that away. This place is still going strong, and I haven't closed early since."

Angelina turned to look at him, and immediately wished she hadn't. He looked close to tears too; his eyes were bright and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

"Oh, George," she whispered, her throat tight.

"You really loved him, didn't you?" His voice broke.

She laughed shakily. "I thought that was pretty obvious." She swiped at the tears still threatening to fall, and George gently grabbed her wrist.

"You don't have to keep it together in front of me, Angie."

His words gave her carefully built walls permission to collapse, and she broke down, burying her face in his chest. It was as though every inhibitive thought had gone out the window, and she sobbed like she had never sobbed before. He held her while she unloaded years of grief, grief that she had kept hidden from Ella because she didn't want her daughter to know that she wished Ella's father could have been someone else.

After a long while, Angelina ran out of tears, and she carefully peeled herself away from George's arms.

"Sorry about your robes," she mumbled. George snorted, and she shot him a watery smile. "I guess I needed a good cry."

"Sure seemed like it," he agreed. He stood and stretched, pulling his wand from his pocket. "Tea?"

"Sure." She watched as he boiled water and dropped a chamomile tea bag into a mug.

"So," George said, pouring the boiling water over the tea bag, "what are you up to these days?" He handed her the mug and reclined in his chair. Angelina wished he wouldn't look at her so intently; it was unnerving just how much of Fred was reflected in those blue eyes.

"I, um, work for the Ministry, in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. It's a desk job, pushing paper mostly, and my parents watch Ella while I'm there. I played Quidditch professionally for a while right out of Hogwarts, as I'm sure you know, but after Ella, I wanted a more... predictable schedule."

George nodded. "That makes sense. I used to follow you in the papers and I'd wondered what happened...Ella looks just like you, by the way, except for her eyes. I'm sure you hear that a lot, though."

Angelina smiled. "Yeah. She's the best thing that ever happened to me. Well, her and...you know." She took a sip of tea and winced. It was too hot, as she knew it probably would be, but she needed to distract herself from George's intense gaze somehow. She wondered what he was thinking. She couldn't read him the way she could read his twin. Maybe in time, she would be able to.

No. She couldn't think like that. George couldn't - wouldn't - be a replacement for the man she still thought about just before she fell asleep. George was her friend and he deserved better from her, although truthfully, she hadn't been much of a friend to him for almost an entire decade. She had ignored his occasional owl, avoided any events she thought he might make an appearance at, and had even put away any pictures that he was in so that her daughter wouldn't ask questions about him.

Yes, she needed to make up for years of lost friendship.

"Do you ever get a chance to do anything fun, or are you busy with the shop even after it's closed?" Angelina found herself asking.

George chuckled, much to her relief. "Haven't entirely lost that bluntness of yours, I see. Anyway," he shot her a pointed look, "I have loads of fun running the shop; it doesn't really feel like work most days. To answer your question, however, I do go out sometimes."

"Would you want to do something with me sometime?" Angelina said. "I don't get out much, myself, so I'm sure my parents would be thrilled to give me a night off from watching Ella."

George looked appraisingly at her, and she worked hard to keep her cheeks from turning pink. "Sure," he said at last. "I'd like that."

"It's just—I haven't been...I want us to be friends again," she said quickly. "You were so sweet to ask after me all these years and I'm sorry I never responded to your owls—"

"I didn't expect you to, Angie," George said quietly. "I knew..." he cleared his throat and then went on, "I knew exactly how you felt."

Silence fell between them. Angelina studied the order forms scattered across the surface in front of her and took a few sips of tea while George continued to watch her.

"I'm glad I came back today," she said suddenly, tucking her hair behind her ear again. "Ella's been begging me to take her for ages and I finally said yes. It's nice to talk to someone who gets how it...how it felt to lose him—to lose...Fred." It was the first time she had uttered Fred's name aloud in years, and she guessed that she probably looked as stunned as she felt.

George reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm glad you came back today, too."

She nodded at him, then drained the rest of her tea.

"I'd better get going," she said, though she found she didn't want to leave the cozy room or the man sitting next to her. "I'm sure Ella has gotten herself into some sort of trouble by this point."

"Verity's usually good about keeping the wee ones in line, don't you worry."

Angelina returned his grin. "I wasn't."

The pair headed back down to the shop in comfortable silence. Angelina was relieved to find her daughter waiting for her at the foot of the stairs.

"Mummy, I'm tired," Ella yawned.

"This place does tend to wear you out after a bit," Angelina chuckled. She turned back to George, unsure of how to leave things. She wanted to thank him for letting her speak so openly, and for listening to her and for being so kind, but she couldn't seem to put all of it into words, so she kept it simple. "Thank you, George."

George inclined his head. "Anytime, Angie. Owl me when you want to hang out, or even if you just want to talk." He opened his arms and Angelina stepped into them easily. The weight of his arms was reassuring, and she closed her eyes for a moment before stepping back.

"Mummy." Ella was pulling on her sleeve. "Mummy, I forgot. Can I get a Pygmy Puff?"

"Oh, Merlin," Angelina said with a shake of her head. "I don't think so, love. You'll be sick of it after a week."

Her daughter pouted, but Angelina knew she wouldn't be upset for long.

"C'mon, El, we can stop for ice cream at Fortescue's if we leave now," she coaxed, and watched Ella's face light up instantly.

"Take care, Ella," George winked. "Tell your mum to bring you back soon, I'll make sure to have a special surprise waiting for you."

Angelina rolled her eyes. "This 'special surprise' had better not be anything dangerous, George Weasley."

"Angelina Johnson, how could you think so little of me?" George pretended to look wounded.

"You're going to spoil her, I can already tell," she whispered to him.

"It's what Fred would have done," he shrugged.

She couldn't argue with that, and as she exited the shop, hand in hand with Ella, she felt lighter than when she had entered.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: It was hard writing George by himself, trying to figure out how the loss of his twin had matured him, while still making him...George. I hope I succeeded.


End file.
